A/N: WARNING: I have changed the summary of this fic. Stop now, go back, and read the changes. WARNING: Attempted suicide, violence, and death in this chapter.

Onward.

Chapter 4

Four months ago

Travel from their location in the north to Fire Country would have taken months. Sakura's teleportation jutsu was much faster. She brought Ino and Shikamaru to the outer edge of Fire Country, then stood with them as they all sensed their surroundings.

"I think we're good," Ino said. "My father told me ANBU patrols start about twenty miles in."

All of Konoha's ANBU had elected to side with the Hokage in office, as per the dictates of ANBU itself.

Shikamaru said nothing.

"Right," Sakura said. "Well, this is where I leave you. How often should I expect updates?"

Ino adjusted the bag on her back. "None at all for at least six weeks. I'm not sure how long we'll be in interrogation, but assuming we're not terminated on sight, give me at least that long. First report will be to say we're free and clear and the nature of future reports."

Sakura looked at her. Glanced at Shikamaru, who was more visibly tense than she'd ever seen him. He, too, held her stare. None of them had to say that this might be the last time they saw each other. After a minute, Sakura stepped to them and threw an arm around each of their necks. She squeezed hard. "You're going dark," she said. "But I'll be waiting for that report." A statement of her faith in them.

When she was gone, Ino turned to Shikamaru. Just then, looking at the way he stared around as if listening for something, she remembered the night they'd made Jounin. Her team had snuck off to get drunk despite only recently completing the Fifth's punishment for drinking at Naruto's house party. Shikamaru had fondled her breast behind the bar. Later, he'd taken her virginity. He'd been more nervous than she was. They'd gone out for a month afterward, but now they were just good friends, as they'd always been.

She put a hand on his shoulder. He was trembling. "I trust you. With my life, I trust you."

The muscles in his jaw flexed, but he turned to face her. "I know. I-" He stopped. Considered his words. "I won't fail."

"I know."

"You have to let me lead this mission."

"I know."

"No matter what I say or do I need you to know that it serves this mission. Even if I swear to the council that I'm with them-"

"I know, Shikamaru. I trust you completely. No matter what you do from here on out. I'm at your disposal." She knew she was an instrument, one he would use to engineer success. When working with Shikamaru it was best to be silent and wait for instruction, the better to let his formidable mind operate unimpeded. He would tell her when and how he wanted her to use Shindenshin. She waited now.

"I told him that what he had wasn't life-threatening," he muttered some time later. "And then it killed him. I failed him. But we're not failing here. Okay. The second we show up they'll suspect exactly what we're doing. Presenting ourselves as outcasts will help with that. The fact that you're a medic helps further."

Ino pulled out her kunai. "How bad do we want it to look?"

He met her eyes. "Make no mistake. If we show up with injuries obviously meant to mislead they will kill us. Spending weeks or months in interrogation isn't an option. Our friends need intel as soon as possible. This way we might be able to cut the interrogation time in half, if not eliminate it entirely, so listen up. We'll put ourselves close enough to the village walls to be discovered in under two hours. ANBU will take us and report to the council. The council will demand an in-depth analysis of our wounds, at which point they must be told that we're dying. Give us fatal injuries, but injuries that will give us seven to eight hours before we succumb. They need to be given time to reach the conclusion that we are of more use to them alive. And if the ranks of elite ninja in the village are as decimated as I believe they are, they will reach that conclusion. Do you understand?"

She nodded. Tightened the hand on her weapon to still its tremors.

"One last thing. My injuries have to be worse than yours. It has to be seen that you tried to heal me and couldn't due to the severity of your own wounds."

She put a hand over the nerves in her stomach at seeing him take out his own weapon. She was ninja. She faced pain and death regularly. But this was so cold-blooded…and Shikamaru was her friend.

He backed off a few paces. "For our friends," he said quietly, "we're going to have to be serious. We'll need to expend chakra for at least a few hours for any medical analysis to be believed…and we can't use our own styles. Got it?"

"Yes. It has to look as though we were attacked for wanting to come back. Like we barely escaped with our lives."

"Exactly. Okay. Come at me." He suited the action to his own words and met her half way.

Almost three months ago

She left the house and, for a long time, felt as if she left Hyuuga Hinata behind. Rage blinded her, but so did freedom. To be cut loose from the pain she'd endured in that village over the past months, pain so intense that there were times she thought she was dying, times she knew parts of her were really dead… To be away from all that had her flying across the ice.

She was angry. But now she was also free. Free from the blade of Naruto's love for Sasuke, a blade that cut her every time she saw either of them. That blade was the worst. Lodged deep in her heart, unable to come free, yet twisting whenever Naruto smiled at her. Free of the horror and confusion of falling in love with Sasuke. The betrayal of Naruto she felt at doing so. The longing Sasuke's serious glances kindled in her. Watching his sacrifices, the pain he tried to hide. Free of the daily desire to touch him. Free…free of the memory of waking up after the rape, of him offering her space under his blanket, of how it'd felt to lie against his side, so warm, of how, minutes or hours later, he'd put his arm around her and she'd turned into him and he into her and his lips had been soft. So soft. His hands so gentle, soothing, questing over the curves and valleys of her body…finding her shamefully ready.

The slow, unsure comfort he'd given them both. The wonder of making love with a man. Of being touched with love. By him.

Then the sigh of her name. Her tears, his tears. Turning from each other. Hating herself, hating him, loving him, wishing she was dead.

How, by unspoken agreement, they'd chosen to forget it afterward. Even when Naruto returned, and they'd spoken upstairs in her room, that had never been mentioned. It had never happened. But it had. That secret lodged itself beside the knife already in her heart and twisted even more viciously. Twisting, twisting, until she woke up less than a week later and knew. Knew. That it wasn't over. For her, the nightmare would continue. And then hearing Naruto ask Sasuke point blank if he'd slept with her. The calm, calculating, unhesitating lie. That lie. But she was no better. Oh no.

That was the night she'd tried to abort the fetus. Failed. Took a kunai and opened both wrists. Watched them heal seamlessly. Put the point of that kunai over her heart and pressed. Pressed it into her flesh, between her ribs, and into her beating heart. Held it pressed deep, held it with both hands, against the organ's struggling, against the pain of her living flesh. Praying for death with utter sincerity. She was ready. There was no more fight in her. Let it happen, let it work, let her heart stop and her pain end. Please. Please, please, please. Please. She couldn't live like this. But then, against the pressure of both her hands, some power uncontrolled by her forced the blade out of her body. The wound closed. There was a minute wherein her terror reached such a peak that she slammed the door on it, on knowledge of the child in her and its powers, and chose to forget it all. She was fine. She was always fine because people needed her to be fine. She looked down at her bloody clothes, stripped, burned them, and climbed into her pallet. Cried. Cried. Months of crying, months of pain. The more she loved them, the more she hated herself. And now this. And then to lust after them both so vehemently, to entertain dark, secret thoughts of them having her at the same time... Respect, dignity, honor, all gone. She was dead.

But now she was free. The wind was so cold, but she didn't feel it. She felt nothing. No pain. No shame. Nothing but freedom, and freedom was sweet.

Down on all fours, chakra blazing so that it melted the snow around her, she ran.

When she stopped, she was Hinata again and hundreds of miles from that village. Hot in her furs, though winter still gripped the land. There were signs of civilization, a sense of people that descended upon her, yet the rocky scrub land she walked was deserted. Mindful now, she stripped to a t-shirt and trousers, and fished a light cloak from her bag. She made the hood come down low enough to hide her eyes, then continued her journey. She traveled by night, relishing the return of daylight, and avoiding people.

She had no particular destination, but at length she came to a tiny cluster of stone homes not entirely unlike the village she'd left behind. There was a frozen stream along the northern edge of this settlement, across which a small bridge had been built. She could see flickering lantern light in the windows of those homes. She crossed the bridge, slipped past the houses, and made for the sparse trees beyond.

-oOo-

She was two or three miles past the settlement when something stopped her. Physically stopped her. Her limbs locked mid-step and would not budge no matter how hard she strained. Fear sent a shiver down her spine. She tried to turn back toward the settlement for help…and found her body able to move again. A surprised gust of relief left her. She took a few minutes to flex her arms and legs while scanning the area with Byakugan. As she'd thought. There was no one around, so it hadn't been a binding jutsu. Shouldering her bag from where she'd dropped it, she pointed herself south once more. And again found herself unable to move.

Long minutes passed before she realized her body could only move toward the settlement. North. Not east or west or south. And it was another hour before she realized that it was the baby preventing her.

She hadn't feared the child inside her since the night she'd tried to end them both. It dawned on her then that her sense of Naruto's baby was actually her baby's sense of him…and that this awareness had a range limit. If she went any farther from Naruto's baby than where she was currently standing, her child would be unable to sense him. Clearly her baby didn't want that.

Byakugan still activated, she stared as far south as she could see. With her heightened chakra she realized this was more than a hundred miles now. She saw a town, hills, valleys, rivers. Her tears were hot, her frustration bitter. Hopelessness was quick to follow. She tried a last time to move south, tried until she was sweating and trembling, but not so much as a finger moved.

The settlement it was then.

She stood up. Her hood had fallen back during her struggles. She lifted it now and made sure it covered her face. Moving slowly, she turned and made her way back the way she'd come.

Mao was always the first one up in the settlement. After Dai, that is. Dai rose before she did just so he could milk his cows and give her some for baking. She took great pride in her bakery; it was the only one in any direction for a hundred miles at least. She ran it with the precision and attention to excellence bestowed upon her by her mother. That worthy woman had been born and raised in Otogakure, a once great village. She'd left when the troubles had begun and taken her young daughter far to the north.

The cold didn't bother her. Hours before dawn she had her ovens going, bread, buns, and pastries baking. She hummed while she worked, enjoying the solitude and her craftsmanship. It was this that prevented her from hearing the knock on the front door at first.

She stopped humming and stared toward the front of the shop. The knocking sounded again. There were a solid oak door separating the front of the shop from the kitchens, and another one serving as the front door to the bakery itself. Whoever was knocking had to be pounding with a good deal of strength for her to hear it this clearly. Wiping her hands on her apron, she grabbed her lantern and moved toward the door. Pushed it open, peered into the shop. It was dark, the curtains drawn. She stared at the front door. The faintest outline of moonlight shown around the edges. Lower, she could see a shadow interrupting that glow. She tightened her grip on the lantern.

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.

Now that she was looking she could see the light fall of dust that shook from the rafters at that pounding. No one ever came to the shop before her curtains were opened. She only opened them when she was ready for business, and she was never ready before the sun began to rise. Anyone who knew her would simply come around to the back and call her name. Anyone who wanted her this urgently knew the shop was unlocked. No one knocked in their settlement. Everyone knew each other and felt at home in all the houses and businesses. Whoever was pounding on her door was a stranger. And strangers never came to their settlement.

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.

"I know you're in there."

Mao gave a soft scream against the back of one hand. The knuckles of the hand holding the lantern were white. "Who…who's there!"

"My name is…Kiku. I need help."

"How did you know I was here?"

"I saw you enter."

"We don't get strangers here. I can't help you. Go away."

Silence. Mao dared to hope. But then, "Please," the stranger said. "Please."

Mao chewed her lip. The person sounded female. That might be all right. "Where did you come from?"

"…North."

North. Mao's worry evaporated at once. There was nothing north of them. If the stranger had said south, then she would have had to slip out the back and try one of her neighbors for assistance. Southerners were all war-crazy, abnormal, super-powered, ninja terrorists. Smiling now, she hurried toward the front door and pulled it open. A tall person stood on the stoop swaddled in a cloak more suited for summer. Upon opening the door wider Mao was hit with a blast of heat…and realized it was coming from the stranger. Somewhat frightened again, she closed the door halfway and blocked it with her body. "There's nothing north. How did you come to be there?"

The stranger was silent for a long time. Mao sensed she was being studied. And then the stranger said, "An exploration committee sent by my village's library. We were sent to…gather data on the weather patterns and their effect on the flora and fauna of certain extreme conditions. We were hit by a storm and…I fear I'm the only survivor. Please. I'm…not well."

Mao found herself leaning out the door, so engrossed was she in this tale. She swung the door wide now and swept her arm in an arc of welcome. "Come. I have sweet breads and milk. Are you hungry?"

The stranger passed her and that heat was stiff and palpable. Mao felt the hairs on her arm rise, and rushed to shut the door. "No," the stranger said. Then, "Yes, actually, I am. Sweet bread sounds lovely. Thank you."

"Of course, miss. Here. Sit down. It's warm in here, would you like to remove your cloak?"

"No…I'm more comfortable with it on. New places and people frighten me. That's why this expedition was so welcome. Just me and a few friends. All the dark and silence of the north. It was wonderful. And call me Kiku."

Mao marveled that Kiku seemed to know just what to say to put her heart at ease. She set a plate of still-hot sweet breads chock full of raisins and coconut before her, and poured a mug full of frothy new milk. She left the pitcher on the table. "Eat your fill. Holler if you'd like more, there's plenty."

"Thank you." She withdrew a hand from inside her cloak and reached for the bread. "I'm afraid I don't have any money."

"That's fine! How long will you be here? And…come to think of it, where did you live before the expedition? What village did you say your library belonged to?"

Kiku took her time chewing. "We're a peaceful place. We don't like to hand the name of our village around to strangers. We don't want to risk war. Sorry." Kiku shrugged. Reached for another piece of bread. "It's a habit we adopt whenever outside our village. Hard to break."

"Oh, I understand completely." She did, too. Her mind now thoroughly at ease, she fanned herself a bit and smiled. "You sure give off a lot of heat. Were you running?"

The chewing stopped. Mao continued to frown and smile, until Kiku slowly reached for the milk. "No. I think I'm sick. Fever."

"Oh. Well do you have a place to rest?"

"No."

"You can stay with me if you want. I live upstairs."

"Alone? No men?"

"Mhm! There's plenty of space, too. My mother passed a few years ago, so…" She saw that the plate and pitcher were both empty.

"Thank you. I accept your offer with gratitude. Miss…?"

"Oh, just Mao. Do you want to come up now?"

Kiku stood, and Mao took that for a yes.

"Yup, it's just been me these five years now," Mao said as she pushed open her apartment door. "I sleep in her room. Makes me feel close to her, you know? So you can have my old room. I think it'll do. It's clean and all, so yeah. Bathroom's over there. Here's the living room. Kitchen. And that's it! What do you think?" She turned around and watched Kiku's hood turning this way and that.

"Your offer is very generous and this is very cozy, but I don't know. Is there anyplace in this settlement that has a room I can stay in? Alone? I'd feel safer."

"Safer? From what? There's no place at all as safe as Last Town. That's the name of our little town here. We call it that because it's the last town before the north. Trust me, no one here will hurt you. Least of all little ole me. Look how big you are next to me, you're almost a giant. And anyway, no one else has room. You could stay with Goro but he's old and always looking to marry someone's daughter. He does have a basement that's pretty empty, though. He'll want payment. And even if you're not ugly he'll want that payment to be you."

Kiku shuddered. "Here's fine. I'm sure I'll feel comfortable soon. What day is it?"

"February twenty-fifth."

Mao saw the mouth beneath that hood give a tremulous smile. She grinned back. "I need to go down and finish my work or there'll be no baked goods for anyone today. Have a sleep! I'll wake you for lunch." And with that she skipped out the door and pattered lightly down the stairs.

-oOo-

Hinata pulled her hood back with a groan and headed for the bedroom she'd been offered. She stopped before she reached it, glanced at the apartment door, and saw that it had no lock. Even so, she detoured to Mao's late mother's bedroom and spent some time doing a quick and thorough search. Same for the living room and kitchen. Satisfied that she had a better idea of who she was staying with, she went to her new room and shut the door. No lock here either.

She would hear Mao's approach, so she wasn't worried. What worried her was that she would sense the girl long before she heard her. She'd walked through Last Town clearly aware of who was in the houses. A family of five there, a husband and wife there. Then up ahead she'd seen a smallish girl/woman coming out of a barn with a wagon laden with pails. Milk, she saw. The girl entered a square structure and she'd followed. Waited at the door as she sensed what the girl was doing. Cooking. She knocked.

Even without her Byakugan she could see the girl. Eyes closed, she was fed an acute awareness of the girl's fear, the way she crept toward her pounding. Then, unbelievably, an impression of the girl's thoughts came to her. Fearing ninja. Violence. Strangers. She'd responded to the questions with words meant to set the girl at ease. When she'd gained entrance, the impressions sharpened immeasurably. She could all but see the girl's memories, and knew it was her child doing this. Helping her. And now, she could sense Mao downstairs, slipping a pan of pies into an oven and smiling. No suspicion on her part. Happy and excited about her guest upstairs and eager to tell the settlement of this unprecedented news.

That, of course, could not be allowed to happen.

Hinata returned her senses to herself. She'd messed up, she realized. She couldn't keep her face hidden indefinitely, nor could she hide the fact that she was pregnant for long. The fever ruse would also need to be adjusted if her body temperature remained the same. I shouldn't have come here, shouldn't have told Mao I was from the north. She couldn't see an alternative, though. If she'd said she was from anywhere else she'd have been turned away, and right now there was nowhere else for her to go. Her baby wouldn't let her leave.

She recalled telling Sasuke when he'd asked how Naruto's baby would be born that Naruto was six months along. At getting the date from Mao, she realized she'd been wrong. By quite a bit. The weeks of darkness had skewed her reckoning. Naruto had been five months pregnant when he delivered. If her own pregnancy followed the same pattern she wouldn't have long before she delivered herself.

-oOo-

Once she'd put away her few belongings, she removed her cloak and sat on the bed. The rape was now three months in the past. Her pregnancy had taken root mere hours later. She knew her child was powerful, but how powerful? Beyond being able to control her body against her will, healing, strength, and now apparent mind-reading, just how much power was she carrying inside her?

I guess it's time I found out.

Sweat dampened her skin. She forced herself to calm down. Took a deep breath. Another.

She could feel her baby, she realized. Feel his awareness of her and her surroundings. A weight in her belly. Not his physical weight, but the weight of power. It only scared her more. She accessed her Byakugan.

A boy. Fully formed. And staring back at her.

She put a hand over her mouth. Managed to keep in her scream. It was his eyes that she could feel, that left that weighted feeling of power. And it wasn't Byakugan. It was nothing she'd ever seen before, but she sensed it was still immature.

Her Doujutsu wavered a moment as tears blurred her vision. She put a hand over her abdomen, over him. "Hi," she whispered.

He put his little hand against her womb, where hers was.

"Oh God."

Beyond his eyes she saw nothing physically abnormal. He was large for three months but not developing ahead of schedule like Naruto's baby had done. Or maybe he was. That much control of his muscles shouldn't be possible for three months' gestation. But he looked normal. Normal body parts. Only his chakra was strange. Connected to his strange eyes and different from the chakra he'd displayed during her fight with Tsunade. The chakra he'd shown then was repressed…but after a minute she could see this too. His tiny pathways glowed far more potently than that of an ordinary ninja, even a grown one. It even felt familiar. The way she'd felt whenever she'd sat by Naruto during his pregnancy. And before, when he'd come to the estate after his argument with Sasuke. His chakra had manifested while she'd been comforting him. Which meant, repressed or not, that part of the Kyuubi lived in her child.

She released her Byakugan. Put her face in her hands. "Damn you, Naruto. Damn you."

Her tears were soon spent. She just didn't have the energy, and she was so tired of crying. She felt as if she'd been crying her whole life. Weary, she scooted back until she could lay her head on her pillow, a hand tucked beneath her cheek, her other hand over her son. She thought of Mao. Of what she could possibly say to her that would keep her from alerting the villagers to her presence. The girl was skittish and easily frightened, but so sweet and honest. She couldn't hurt her. She didn't want to hurt anyone. If only she could leave this place…

She slept.

Mao took the last tray of rolls from the oven and arranged them on a rack. Leaned down to sniff them appreciatively. "My best work yet." She said that every morning. And like every morning, she turned from tidying up her kitchen to enter the shop proper and open her curtains, signaling that she was ready for business.

Unlike every morning, there was someone standing directly behind her when she turned to complete this daily ritual.

After a second of fright she realized it was her new guest. She blinked. The hair was longer than anyone in Last Town wore theirs, well past Kiku's hips, and shaggy to boot. The bangs obscured the eyes, but then her attention was caught by something else: there was a ball of glowing orangish light in Kiku's hand. Her fear returned ten-fold.

Ninja!

She thought maybe she turned to flee, or tried to…things became very confusing. She was screaming, or thinking about screaming, but no sound came out of her mouth. A hand was at her throat, and now she could see the eyes. Pale. Also glowing with yellowish-orange light, and marked by some kind of flower pattern. The ball of light in Kiku's hand was pressed into her chest, where the hand itself disappeared…and then she thought no more.

Hinata woke with a gasp. A sound to her left had her flinching, but it was only Mao. She was setting a tray on the bedside table. When she straightened, Mao looked at her and showed no surprise. A closer look revealed no expression whatsoever on the girl. Nothing save a small smile that, when coupled with Mao's blank stare, struck Hinata as being completely unnatural. "Mao? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Brought you some food. Will you be needing anything else?"

Something made Hinata brush her bangs aside, revealing her eyes. As she suspected, there was no reaction. "Mao-"

Images swelled in her mind: her body rising from this very bed and going downstairs. Doing…something…to Mao.

Hinata pushed herself upright and strove for calm. Mao, she realized, was essentially a puppet now, one being controlled by her son. The girl would reveal nothing, say nothing, do nothing, but what her son wanted. She felt an urge to vomit. "No, Mao. That will be all, thank you."

Mao left.

Hinata sent the tray of food crashing against the wall with a sweep of her arm. She couldn't scream, lest she alert the people of this godforsaken place to her presence and thus put them in danger from her son, but she crashed her fist through the wall behind her bed, and bit at her hands until the skin was in shreds.

The mirror across the room revealed a madwoman. Wild hair, bloody mouth, hands dripping blood. She held her hands in front of her and watched them heal. And then she felt her body forcibly laid on the bed and her mind overtaken, despite her real attempts to scream now, as sleep rolled over her again.

It was no longer a metaphorical nightmare. Her terror was real and utterly tangible in the usurpation of her mind and body. If this was what Naruto had felt, then she had new sympathy for him. Her mind, her thoughts, were only allowed to travel in a narrow line; she could no longer entertain thoughts on hurting herself, or she would find herself going to sleep. She couldn't think of leaving the apartment or she would find herself asleep. It was the same for everything she did or thought about doing. She was permitted two actions. Eating and going to the bathroom. She was allowed thoughts on one thing. Her son.

Thus hampered, she dwelled on him obsessively. Speculated on the nature of his powers. On the strength and extent of them. She was soon well versed in every aspect of his anatomy, but the precise nature of his powers eluded her. As a month crept by, she was able to conclude that he did, in fact, have some form of Byakugan. But that was all she could discern.

That, and the fact that in a lot ways he was more powerful than Sasuke and Naruto's son.

-oOo-

When he was big enough for his movements to be felt, she thought to herself that this was it. Things could not be worse. She would go still at those times. He was so strong. A kick from him would double her over on a gasp. It was all she could do to breathe. That was in the beginning, though. Too soon, his strength increased.

His active periods were the worst. He would stretch and flex his body for upwards of an hour while she lay wherever she'd fallen, unable to scream in her agony as she felt her ribs snap, her lungs punctured, her spleen ruptured, or her spine crack. How her womb withstood him without tearing was no doubt due to his healing, just as he always healed her. She would lie shuddering as she felt her bones and organs repaired, damaged, and repaired again. After, she would weakly roll to her back and sob in defeat.

Still, there was a bright side. Her son had no control over her emotions. That was something. She struggled not to hate him. To remain positive. Naruto's hatred of his son had been horrible to witness. She'd thought it was weakness on is part, a private belief that he was being selfish and immature, but she had a better idea of how difficult it must have been for him not to. He'd lost far more than she had as a result of his baby. She was only losing herself.

It was hard. But she got no sense of malice from her son. Not really. Not even when he took over her body and controlled her senses. She thought maybe he was only protecting himself by controlling her and Mao. He made the girl bring up an abundance of food throughout the day that she then consumed. All he was doing was making sure that he lived. Anyone would do that. And for the rest, well, he was a baby. All babies moved and tested their strength. He probably had no true understanding of pain since he was able to heal. Had no idea what he was putting her through. So she didn't hate him. But she was scared. So scared. Scared of what her child could do, of things he perhaps hadn't demonstrated yet. Scared of bringing such a child into the world. Already he sucked her dry of chakra on a daily basis. That he was able to contain her chakra as well as his own in his small body was duly noted. What he'd be capable of once born was not something she wanted to think about.

-oOo-

She had one respite, and that was the infrequent times she found herself awake while he slept. His power over her dulled and she found her thoughts marginally her own. She'd long since discovered that she could alter nothing about herself or her surroundings during these times—such as acquiring poison—but she could think about other things. He could only read thoughts she was currently having, not thoughts she'd entertained while he slept. Past memories he could read. Past thoughts, no. She'd needed weeks to train her mind to have no memory of the thoughts, though.

She always thought of Naruto at these times. She had to get to him. Now that he was himself, he was the only one who could help her, she was sure of it. She'd told him it wasn't his baby, but that was back when she'd still had hopes of delivering a normal child. Even though that same child had prevented her suicide and demonstrated such power during her fight with Tsunade, she'd hoped he'd be normal. Now, in full awareness of the monster she was carrying, she was ready and willing to acknowledge Naruto as his other parent.

But how to get to him? Try as she might, she could think of no way to leave the settlement. Nothing changed. Nothing except the slow erosion of her will and the equally gradual increase of her dread. She suffered through his active periods, cried silent tears whenever he subdued her mind, and prayed for assistance. Someone had to help her. Anyone. Unless someone helped her, she was finished. Mao continued to feed her. She lost count of how many times she'd tried to get through to the girl, to perhaps snap her out of the jutsu, but of course her son wouldn't let her. When not working the girl was sent to her room, where she remained until it was time for her to work again. She neither spoke nor responded when spoken to. Even so, Hinata never gave up hope that something would change. Something had to change.

She was six months pregnant and large as a house before a solution glimmered into existence. And it was unknowingly handed to her by her son.

Sometimes when he commandeered her senses, he didn't put her to sleep. She didn't know if this was an oversight on his part, or if he simply felt it unnecessary, but she would lay unable to move, eyes forced closed, while being fully awake. She never knew why afterward, but during one such episode, while she sensed his mind roaming far and wide, she slowly, gently, oh so softly followed his connection to her into his own mind. She pulled back at once, afraid he'd notice her, but crept into him once more when nothing happened. Looking carefully, she was able to study his abilities at long last. What she found gave her the worst fright yet, but it was also encouraging. There was much he could do. God. So much. But one ability in particular could be her salvation.

She bided her time. His movements now all but killed her, big as he was, but he always healed her. After, she would try to gentle him by rubbing her stomach. He would imitate her, rubbing her stomach from within, and it was at these times that she prayed he wasn't evil. He was just a baby. A creature of instinct. Powerful, but innocent. He could learn love and compassion. She had to believe that. And she loved him, she decided. Sometimes she said that aloud to him. Sometimes she just held her belly, closed her eyes, and tried to send this knowledge to him with her thoughts. She was never sure if he knew or understood, but these actions soothed her. It was during one of these soothing periods that a name for him came to her.

-oOo-

Finally. She was nearly in her seventh month. He slept more and more, and controlled her less. His time was near, she sensed. Which meant her time had to be now. She'd spent the past weeks deliberately lulling him with her meekness. He was confident that she was weaker than he was, and thus no longer a threat. Good. She would have to be quick. Quick and exceptionally precise.

His rest periods were usually no more than three or four hours every few days, but now he slept several times a day. She waited until he'd been sleeping for an hour before closing her eyes and focusing all her concentration inward. On his mind and his chakra. She had no chakra of her own, but that was fine.

She went quickly, but carefully, envisioning his connection to her as a nebulous strand of thought. She slid along it, inching ever closer to the vivid cloud that was his chakra. Hidden in that cloud were starbursts of power, things he could do. She saw clearly the way the ones he was using were brighter than the ones he wasn't. And the ones he wasn't using were brighter than the ones he didn't know about. Those lurked in shadowy places in the cloud. She moved toward one of the unknowns, a big one, with all the stealth of a floating feather. Once there, she examined it closely. Scrutinized it as she hadn't been able to do previously for fear of alerting him to this ability and its properties.

Just by touching it with her mind she was able to sense Naruto. Practically see him. Even stronger was the image of his son, now larger and fatter than when he'd been born. She spent a moment looking at them, analyzing the amount of chakra it would take to do what she had to do. A lot. More than she possessed on her best day. This was something probably only a handful of people in the shinobi world could do, if that many. Possibly no one but her son could do this. That was all right, though. She'd be using his chakra, and she wouldn't be using the full range of the jutsu. Only a tiny part. She was counting on the fact that he was unfamiliar with what she was about to do. When he tried to stop her, and he would, those first seconds of fumbling on his part would make all the difference.

She turned to his chakra now. His pathways were so brilliant that she couldn't see individual pathways at all. She took a moment to steady herself. Firmed her determination until it was as hard and bright as she could make it. Until there was no doubt in her mind of success. She could do this. She would do this. It was the only way.

Quick and precise. Quick. And. Precise.

She snatched at his chakra, successfully attached herself to his pathways, and drew on it long and hard. She was flooded with strength. Vital. Energized. Full and powerful as she'd been in her fight with Tsunade, she screamed in triumph, leaping off the bed. She could feel his swift return, but she had a wall ready to block him from swarming over her mind, a wall he ran into and rebounded off of with palpable surprise. The jutsu was ready in her mind. Ready to execute…

…and nothing happened.

During the second or two it took for her to realize she didn't know the hand seals or the words to activate the jutsu, and that she lacked the power of mind to do so without vocalization, her son slammed into her wall with enough force to have blood spurting from her nose and vomit surging up the back of her throat. Her brain felt as if it were being torn in two, but even so she fought him. Blocked his grab for the jutsu, blocked the attempt to muzzle her senses.

Downstairs, Mao blinked and had no idea where she was, who she was, or what she was doing. A crash from her apartment had her frowning upward. And then memory returned. Kiku. A strange ninja woman. Upstairs. She'd attacked her here in her very own kitchen.

Mao ran for the front door, bypassing the customers she'd been helping-

What? How? I don't even remember them coming in…

- until she stood in the middle of Last Town's one street, screaming at the top of her lungs.

She wasn't strong enough to stop him. That much became obvious when he summarily trampled her hold on him after his initial surprise. He spent a few seconds figuratively sniffing at what she'd been trying to do, exploring the jutsu she'd uncovered, before deciding it was nothing he cared about. He turned to her.

When Naruto had raped her, a part of her thought afterward that there could not possibly be anything worse than his assault. Not even dying could be as bad as that. Unless someone tortured you, death was relatively quick. Even in torture, the solace of knowing you were resisting an enemy, serving your country, or protecting your friends surely helped ease the transition from life to death. But Naruto. She'd loved him. And she knew that on some level he'd loved her too. Not the way he loved Sasuke, but in his own way. To know he could do this to her, that something in him could overpower his strength and loyalty so thoroughly and have her suffer at his hands… He who'd never been anything but kind to her... He was dense sometimes, but never intentionally so. Her biggest champion. To know it was happening through his body had been worse than the assault itself. And the assault had been very bad…

…yet nothing compared to what her son did now. It hurt her to see him, really see at long last that he truly was a monster.

She'd told Naruto once that sometimes something bad had to happen in order for something good to come along. And though Sasuke had guarded his baby religiously from any contact with her, she'd been able to see what a good little boy he was. Always staring at Sasuke, waiting for his smiles. Attuned to his surroundings and the people in them. Always happy to see her because of the baby he could sense she was carrying. His sibling. And she thought maybe he'd just liked her despite never being held by her. He'd smiled at her a few times when Sasuke wasn't looking. She'd hoped desperately to bring a child as good and pure into the world. It would negate the rape and its horror if she could bring a piece of Naruto into the world and have it love her as much as Sasuke's and Naruto's son obviously loved them.

But her son was the end of all hope. The end of her dreams. There would be no years of raising a child, with her the proud mother. No introducing her father to his first grandson. No watching him grow up and train with Neji. He was the end of all that. And the end of her, it seemed. She saw now that he did understand, and that he didn't care. Was incapable of caring. He was a creature thwarted, who now meant to establish his dominance. He didn't like being defied. And, like any infant who'd been denied, he threw a tantrum.

Hinata considered it a blessing that he'd subdued her senses so ruthlessly. She couldn't feel when he repeatedly rammed her head into the stone wall. Her brain took severe damage, leaked from her nose and ears and her pulverized skull, but she was far beneath the surface operations of her brain. Her consciousness watched as he lashed out physically with his own body, breaking her pelvis in three places, demolishing her rib cage and sternum, and completely annihilating her lungs and heart.

Here he stopped.

It was a mark of his cruelty that he didn't heal her. He gave some attention to her lungs when he began to suffer from lack of oxygen, as well as her heart. But he left the rest of her broken. She saw one of her eyes on the floor near the bed, trodden to a shapeless jelly by the frenzy he'd put her body through.

Sounds. People outside. Yelling. Storming the bakery, voices raised in fear and hate.

He turned to them with something akin to hunger, and she watched as he got his first taste of violence against another.

-oOo-

She mourned Mao, who led the charge with a butcher knife, and who was thus cut down by her hand plunging into the girl's chest. It came out again with the girl's heart clutched in her broken fingers. She grieved, too, for the men whose heads she tore from their shoulders, for the women whose faces and breasts she mutilated with her teeth, for the children, the poor children who ran from her only to be chased down and have their throats torn out with hands and teeth both. She was deeply saddened that this should be her legacy, this instrument of destruction. She lamented every word of anger she'd ever given Naruto, every hateful thought she'd had about him because of the rape or his own anger. This was what he'd gone through, and it truly had not been him. She grieved for him, for herself, and for these defenseless people who'd numbered less than two hundred.

But she was not unaware. And now, approaching her time, she found strength that bypassed her physical body. Her soul, in leaving her body, had access to unlimited power, unlimited knowledge. It was too much to process, and she had very little time. An instant. One instant to hold all her son's power in the palm of her celestial hand and send two messages. One went north, the other went south. She couldn't stop him, not even with this power; she was leaving this plane of existence for another, higher plane. But maybe she could help him. She had to believe he could be saved. He'd shattered her dreams, but there was still hope. She was his mother and he was her responsibility.

She altered one of the messages.

When she was done, she took the jutsu she'd originally tried to use and handled it with ease. Thus was her son removed from his scene of carnage and deposited where he needed to be. It was all she could do. She had no more time. Everything was fading.

Naruto. Sasuke. I'm so sorry, but I'm putting him in your care. Forgive me.